Moonlight
by ToWritePurebloodOnHerArms
Summary: This woman was his and his alone. Just a oneshot. (mild smut)


_And she was beautiful. _

A blood red curl wrapped around a pale index finger. The man watching as the red contrasted his pale skin. Her hair was red, his favourite colour, and when he ran his fingers through her hair he could easily visualise blood slipping through his fingers.

The sleeping woman sighed soft and he froze in fear that he'd woken her. Damned woman would wake at the sound of blinking. Bloody wonder, she was. He'd give her that. Once he was sure she was still sleeping, the man withdrew his hand reluctantly from the curls to graze the tip of his finger across her bare shoulder. She was so soft, so pale.

It still surprised him that she loved the feel of his calloused fingers on her soft bare skin, and he was oddly thankful that his touch drove her wild. He felt the sudden urge to press his lips to her shoulder, but fought against it, she would wake and the trance he was in would be broken.

It wasn't that she didn't enchant him when she was awake, because she did, more than she should, it was just that he rather enjoyed watching the most talkative woman in the world sleep. She was so peaceful, so quiet and beautiful. She was always beautiful.

The moonlight that slipped through the netted curtains made her pale skin glow. _Again_ there was that urge to wake her, to kiss every inch of her skin, to _worship_ her.

How had he gotten like this? So _affected _by the sleeping redhead beside him?

It had been an unusually hot day in London and he'd noticed that she hadn't come up to get his laundry as she usually would, so he'd huffed and puffed till he eventually ended up taking them down to her himself. What he'd found however, was _her_ in the _bath_. _Soaking_.

He winced, the steamy images sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. No, dammit. He didn't need this now. Think of something else, think of something else, think of-

Her long red hair had been stuck to her shoulders, chest, and neck and he'd watched as she washed herself. It had been _fifteen _years without the touch of a woman. It had been _so _long. So fucking long. And he'd gotten _painfully _hard just watching her.

She'd seen him of course, the little bitch, she had locked eyes on his as she massaged the soap into her chest. And she'd smirked at him, a devlish glint in her eye.

Damned bitch.

He'd wanted to hate her for it, he really did, but as he'd pounded into her, as he'd collapsed on top of her, he had realised how he _really _couldn't blame it all on her. As much as he wanted to. It had been _years_ and she had been willing. The petite little whore had submitted herself to him, given him her body to use and abuse. He had just taken advantage.

He had of course been ashamed of himself for giving into his desires and had refused to speak to her or look at her for three weeks after that, and then she'd brought him his breakfast in the pouring rain and that soaked pale skin had just been too tempting.

And so, they embarked on an affair. Silent rules laid out for them;

1) It was _just_ sex. Nothing more.

That was it really, it was just sex and anything he wanted, he got. She was bloody wild too, up for anything and enjoyed _everything _he gave her. It had gone from being a release to actually _wanting_ to give her pleasure, wanting to see her head thrown back against pillows, shouting his name as she came hard around him. It was like a drug and he was completely addicted to it.

The woman rolled over in her sleep, the silk sheets at her waist. He cursed. How could she still seduce him in her sleep?! Dammit.

He looked over her face, so content and peaceful. She was much younger and care-free when she was sleeping, and he liked to think that he was much like her in that sense.

The man moved his head closer to hers, able to feel her breath on his lips. Shit. That made him, if it was possible, even harder. He was going to _have_ to wake her.

Sweeney Todd smirked to himself and slid his hand down between them to between her legs, sliding his fingers...

Eleanor Lovett gasped, her eyes snapping open and meeting his. "Sweeney!" She whispered, her legs moving to allow him to continue his assult on her body even in her current state of shock. She was still so sensitive from hours before, and yet, she gave it to him freely.

Their mouths met in a fierce and passionate kiss, two fingers deep inside her before he replaced them with his member. Shit. So tight...

Eleanor whimpered and their teeth clashed, breathing harsh against each others kiss.

_This bloody wonder, _Sweeney thought to himself, moving slow and deep to make it last. _This woman was his and his alone._

Just like he was hers.


End file.
